Remember the Albatross Around Your Neck Was Once Your Choice of Ocean

 

 

All haters have small ducks for brains. Look. We came here

to do a job, to make a beautiful thing rise up,

sprouting like the new moon out of a harsh sunlight blaring 

off concrete, to blast a particular noise for

the next charge at hand and I don't care for all this

tortured mooning over rock and roll artifacts,

 

period. Yeah we were somewhat lucky enough

to be walking in the wilds once upon a time

like some kind of free range circus with all the

fast fading lumbering and faintly limberish

animals for a small little while. Music does

calm the savage beast you know. It also becomes an open

 

awful callous addiction over time. You can't outrun

its hunger for more of your youngest time and young

energy and spurting lifeblood. Is it any

wonder that eventually they forgot their

trained manners and began to eat us whole? We are the 

said human beings at fault. They hadn't forgotten anything

 

about their own freedoms to exist. We were

the lost pretenders. Just because they were bored enough

to play games for fish we thought that meant they weren't really

pissed off enough to end everything in a

pool of dumbfounded gore. I'm sorry to be so glorifyingly

graphic here, but it's a lesson that needs to be told

 

time and time again. It's a thankless universe

full of frozen snakes. Take one in and you're bound to

be the next one that's bitten. No matter how much

milk you put in a bowl beside the fire. No matter

how many daisies you wear in your hair. Eventually

they turn on the headlights and grind

 

everything into bits of diamond dust. Don't

worry. The butterflies'll find a way to recapture

the zigzag between the exhaust fumes and fist

fights. You won't be able to resist this flinging tissue-like

dance of pure faith. It will delight you in spite of your almost 

secret desire to crush all color out of the

 

prettiest of pink skies. It's free music that needs no nostalgia

attached to its forehead. It's the path

you only see clearly on a rainy day any way. It's time as present day

payback. It's  the  device without a button or

a doomsday clock in its navel. It's a feeling

of cupped flowers leading a long parade of bees up the downside of a drizzling hill.

 

Darryl Price   Monday August 5 2013